One corner held a bed big enough for two, and beside it, a few sets of clothes hung on hooks fastened to the wall. In the opposite corner stood a bookshelf teeming to the brim with sailing books, charts, and other instruments, and next to it a table with various tools, disassembled weapons, and copper. Some of the tools and items had fallen to the deck from the swaying of the ship. Edward saw the same scene on the table in front of them, with sailing charts, books, and weapons and tools from edge to edge.
Edward sat and locked his fingers together, mimicking Grace—a trick Anne and Alexandre had taught him when trying to endear someone to you, mimicking another person's body language to put them at ease.
However, Grace's gaze seemed immediately drawn to Edward's hands, and she instantly changed her posture. She leaned back and folded her arms in front of her and stared at him for a moment.
Edward didn't dare move. He realized Grace was too smart for such tactics, and if he folded his arms, it would be much too obvious. He decided to take the offensive. "What did you need, Captain?"
She didn't respond for a moment, staring at Edward as she waited. Then she relaxed, if only slightly, and reached into a drawer on her side of the table. She pulled out two glasses and a decanter filled with brown liquor. After filling both glasses generously, she passed one of the drinks to Edward.
"I wanted ta welcome ye to our crew," she finally said.
Edward held back his surprise with the motion of taking the cup in hand and took a drink to think up a response. He needed another moment to let the burn of the whiskey subside. "I suppose I passed some test?"
Grace grinned and raised her glass to him after she took a drink herself. "That's right. Ye handled yerself well out there, if a bit slowly for my taste. Next time, try to keep up if ye don' want ta be shot."
"Now that I know about those legs of yours, I'll be more aware."
Grace leaned back and placed her feet up on the table. Dried mud flaked off the bottom of the copper boots onto the papers below, and Edward couldn't help but think Herbert would be appalled that the charts were being soiled. Grace ran her fingers over the copper greaves.
"They're quite a pair, thas' for sure. Pain to reload, though."
Edward nodded. He could tell that she was relaxing around him; perhaps the drink was helping, but maybe this was an advantageous direction to take the conversation. "You must have made them yourself judging by the tools you have there." Edward nodded his head towards Grace's workshop over his shoulder.
"Aye, that I did. These legs've got a few other tricks. Play yer cards right, and maybe I'll show them to you." Grace slid her hands down her legs to her thighs and looked at him with an unmistakable expression of lust.
Edward was in the middle of a drink and had to hold back a cough and sputter. Bollocks! That's what that crewmate meant by not refusing her. I must change the subject. "Your name," he blurted out.
"What about it?" Grace replied, annoyance clear.
"I'm not too learned when it comes to history, but was there not a famous Grace O'Malley whom some would say was also a pirate from a couple of hundred years ago?"
Edward thought he could hear Grace let out a small sigh as she moved her feet off the table. "Aye, that there was." She took another drink of her whiskey. "O'Malley ain't me last name. Had no need of me last one affer…" Grace trailed off but shook her head and moved on. "Probably good fer you to do the same if ye want to go back to yer home someday." Grace pointed with one finger at Edward's ring, sloshing some of the whiskey on the table as she did so.
Edward looked down at the golden wedding ring on his left hand, and he could feel his cheeks flush. Grace took his redness as embarrassment and chuckled, but he was far from embarrassed.
Wrapped around his finger was that familiar gold that was not gold, and he hadn't spared it a second thought. He and Anne had been married for so long it had become a part of him, and it was made of the same material that his father, perhaps more so under the alias Benjamin Hornigold, was known for. He was so worried about letting something slip in what he said that he forgot about the smallest piece that could almost immediately give him away.
As it dawned on him, he became painfully aware of how quiet he had been. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you." Keep the conversation going. Don't draw attention to the ring anymore. Names. Keep talking names. "I had a friend who was named after a rather famous pirate as well. Though I doubt his parents had known about the man when they named their son. I don't think he was aware of it either as I only learned of it recently myself."
Grace burst out laughing, the whiskey hitting her now. "Ain't that somethin'? Named after a killer and not even knowin' it."
Edward let out a sigh as he switched the whiskey to his right hand to lower his ring from sight. He would have to remove it later, but what he would do with it after that he didn't know.
It was then that he realized what he had said exactly. He talked about his friend, Henry Morgan, the one he had killed, and he didn't get the same feeling he had in the past. His hands weren't shaking, and the sense that the world narrowing in on him was gone as well. And, though he was thinking of it now, the flashes of those who had died because of him, including his old quartermaster John, never came unbidden to his mind's eye.
Perhaps the whisky is hitting me as well, Edward thought as he took another drink.
When he looked up, Grace was there beside him, sitting on the edge of the table with her legs spread and her back arched. She wore a smile that was unmistakable save to the simple or the blind.
"So," Edward said, drawing out the word as he did his best to lean away from her, "I'm curious as to what it was that we were there to retrieve during my test?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the item she'd taken from the thief's corpse and handed it to Edward.
It was an ordinary necklace made of what Edward thought was driftwood in the shape of a spiral seashell, half as big as Edward's palm. He turned the necklace over in his palm a few times as he examined the unique shape. He couldn't place it, but he felt he had seen the necklace before. Could it have been when Grace was picking it up? No, the angle was wrong. It had been somewhere else, a long time ago.
Then it hit him.
This was his mother's necklace.
"So, you figured it out, did ye?"
Cold sweat trickled down Edward's face, and his body seized. "What?" he managed to get out.
"Knew you was a smart one." She playfully stroked his hand. "Ye worked it out that that's the boss man's property, didn't ye?"
Edward couldn't say a word. All he could manage was a nod of his head as he placed his late mother's necklace on the table. This was too much for him to digest, and he felt sick to his stomach. He got up to leave, but Grace pushed him back down to the chair.
Grace leapt on top of him, straddling him and pinning him to the chair. She pulled his face up and kissed him. The surging pressure of her lips against his kept him pinned like a surging wave. The smell of gunpowder and whiskey—and, strangely enough, cinnamon—broke through his other senses as she forced her tongue into his mouth.
Edward gained his senses and pushed her off. It was then that he noticed just how petite she was compared to him. She certainly had more muscle than the average woman, including Anne, but she almost looked dainty compared to his large form. She was an attractive woman, with curves like a crested sail in the wind and a face that could belong in a painting. Though it was short, with her red hair she could be mistaken for Anne's older sister in the right light.
What am I thinking right now? Edward's better judgement came back to him, and when Grace tried to force herself back on him, he pushed her off again as he rose to his feet.
"Ah, ye like it rough, do ye?" she said, not losing her smile as she loosened one hand from Edward's grip before grabbing his groin. "Aye, seems ye do," she purred.
"No," he bellowed. The force of his single word took her aback, and she pulled herself away from him.
> Before she could gain her wits about her, and before Edward could move for the door again, there was a knock from outside.
Grace regained her composure and folded her arms as she took a few steps away from Edward. "What is it? I told ye not ta disturb me."
"Aye ma'am, it's urgent. Ship off the starboard bow."
Grace cursed under her breath and stalked to the door to her cabin, her stride rushed and heavy.
Edward followed a few steps behind, and Grace left the room without looking back at him. He closed the door to her cabin as he chased her and the mate up the ladder to the weather deck, where some other crewmates were rushing up to see the commotion.
As Edward emerged to the humid brine of the sea air, he could see almost the entirety of the crew watching the seas. Many held spyglasses to their eyes, and those who had none held their hands up to their eyes to look through the pinhole of their palms, and others tried their best with their naked eye.
Herbert and John were both on the quarterdeck where Grace headed. One of her senior mates handed her a spyglass, and she peered through it. As Edward climbed the ladder up, he turned his gaze starboard. Even without aid, he could see the distinct dark shape approaching on the horizon. Whoever was aboard the ship, and whatever allegiances they held, would be unknown until they were much closer, but one thing was clear: they didn't fear to pass another ship on their route. That meant much more than a flag could ever tell them.
"Change course. Head west," Grace commanded her helmsman. "We'll take the scenic route to Nassau."
The helmsman shouted orders to the milling crew, who swiftly went to work changing the sails and rigging, and working with the helm to move the ship further to port.
Grace, feeling her job was finished, handed the spyglass back to her mate and headed to the quarterdeck ladder. Edward decided he would not join her and instead stayed put where he was.
"Wait, Captain," Herbert's voice called.
For a moment, Edward thought Herbert was talking to him, and he stifled his normal response when he remembered who he was. He looked over to see Herbert glancing through his own spyglass west, their new destination.
"What?" Grace's tone had shifted from annoyance to anger.
"I suggest we head east. We will be heading into a storm if we sail west."
Grace's brows furrowed as she glanced over her shoulder towards their destination. After a moment, she looked at her helmsman, who frantically sought his own spyglass.
"I see nothing," he said after nary a glance west. "The boy lies."
Judging the matter settled, Grace once more turned around to head back to her quarters.
"Are you daft?" Herbert shouted. "There's a halo around the sun, and the pressure of air has been decreasing as we've been heading north-west. If we go further west, it'll drop even further, and those clouds I see will be right on us if we head that direction." Herbert was pointing due west as he spoke. Edward looked to the sun, and he too could see the hazy ring around it, a visible marker of increased moisture in the air. He couldn't see anything wrong with the clouds, but Herbert's eyes were better than his. "Are your senses dulled along with your wits? Can you not smell the air? It's saltier than the stew we eat!"
If it were not for every eye being on them, hot and grim, Edward would have laughed at Herbert's comment. As it stood, the ire in the air overpowered the air pressure Herbert was trying to point out.
"Enough," Grace said, her words barely rising above the din of the ship, but still bubbling with anger. "Yer not the helmsman on this ship. I suggest ye hold yer tongue unless ye want it cut out."
"Captain," Edward interjected, "my brother has better eyes than most, and knows the sk—"
"Not another word from you either, ye pissant." If Grace had been angry with Herbert, she was spitting fire at Edward. Her glare could melt a glacier.
Edward pressed forward, not caring about the flames. "Your crew will die," he said calmly.
Grace gritted her teeth, her usual calm completely broken. "Below deck, both of you. Before I throw you overboard."
Edward held back his own frustration. This was partially his fault for drawing Grace's ire by refusing her. He took a deep breath before he motioned for Herbert to join him. The eyes of the crew followed them as they headed into the dark, but Edward was sure Grace would call them back when the storm hit. And he hoped it was sooner rather than later.
11. A Bell to Fill the Hollows
"Why do we wait and sit around like kittens?"
Pukuh, hunched down on all fours as he peered over a ridge at a nearby hamlet, looked nothing like a kitten. Despite his native garb making him look like a large eagle, there was no mistaking the hunter beneath the outfit ready to strike.
"We're not here to kill them," Anne admonished, "we're here to help them so that they in turn may help us."
"And this bell is to fill the life into their eyes?" Pukuh said, touching the bell wrapped around Anne's waist.
"That is the hope," Anne replied.
Anne, Pukuh, William, and a handful of crewmates stood on the outskirts of a hamlet, waiting and watching for an opportunity. As they had feared, and as their old crewmate Sam Bellamy had confirmed, the sounds of the bells across the island had triggered the men and women going about their lives. They, like the ones who had attacked them, were now mindless husks wandering about without purpose save to fight any who approached.
"That hope will be as hollow as those people unless we act on it."
Anne grinned at the one-armed warrior itching for a battle. She gripped his shoulder to gain his attention. "Patience."
Pukuh let out the tense breath he seemed to be holding and nodded as he showed her a small smile. After that, he relaxed a bit.
Anne turned her attention back to the hamlet, watching the people milling about. She, like Pukuh and William, was watching and waiting for an opportunity where they could use the bell.
They had learned that the people were drawn to sounds, but only when they couldn't see what produced it. Though Sam denied it, the hollow people did seem to retain some of their faculties, and they were able to judge what was human and what wasn't.
Communicating with each other was beyond them. Despite their having worked together to ram the general store's door, they worked independently. If several had heard a noise, they all had to see the source. None told the others what it was to save labour.
That knowledge would be to Anne and the crew's advantage.
Anne noticed one man splitting off from the rest and walking down one of the side roads leading out of the square. She motioned for one of the crewmates behind her to bring her a stone as they had discussed.
She waited a bit longer before tossing the stone over the ridge where she and the crew were waiting. The stone fell with a thud down the road, kicking up a small cloud of dust with it. The man was looking the other way when it fell, and it must not have been loud enough, because there was no reaction.
Anne lobbed another, larger stone down the road, this time using a bit more force. It went a few feet farther than the last one.
The man turned towards the noise and moved closer, looking around for any sign of the source of the sound as he did.
Anne threw another stone, this time much closer, and the man took the bait. He moved faster, whatever intelligence left driving him towards the ridge where he knew the rocks were coming from.
Anne, as they had planned, slunk back further down the ridge with the other crewmates waiting in the wings. They were a bit farther from William and Pukuh, who would be in the thick of it once the hollow man approached, but not too far away should the need arise.
William and Pukuh rose from their hiding spot just enough for the approaching man to see them, and he gained even more speed when his eyes fell upon them.
Anne pulled out the handbell from around her belt and held it ready.
The man bounded over to the other side of the ridge and lashed out wildly, striking at the two in front of him.
>
William kept his distance and positioned his right shoulder towards the attacker so that his injured shoulder was out of harm's way. Pukuh was behind the man, waiting to ensure the fight didn't go sour.
Anne rang the bell softly, the small ding of the golden metal striking her ears and pulling on the hairs on the back of her neck. Pukuh raised his spear in the air, a signal that he heard the sound, but the man remained unchanged.
The crewmates around her were tense at the sight of the hollow man in front of them, fighting with no regard for his own preservation. Anne couldn't escape the influence of that tense atmosphere, and she too felt stiff in her movements.
She struck the bell once more in a natural up and down stride. The ringer hit at the top of the arc closest to her ear, and she felt its strange pull once more in the deep of her chest.
The man continued his assault. Anne cursed under her breath. It meant she had to get closer for it to work, or it wasn't working at all.
Step by step, she advanced while ringing the bell in the same rhythmic motion. If they were to find an accurate distance, she would need to be consistent.
The hollow man, however, had other plans. As Anne approached, and William fended him off with precision strikes and manipulation, she caught the hollow man's eye. He changed targets and ran straight for her.
Anne gritted her teeth and held the bell out in front of her as though it were a pistol. With the flick of her wrist, she tossed the bell into the air just after it struck its tone when the man was not ten feet from her. She changed her stance, ready to jump out of the way and try the trick Alexandre had told them about, but something changed.
The man slowed gradually to a complete stop in front of her. She watched as the life and intelligence entered his eyes once more, and he suddenly looked confused.
He glanced about him, all eyes and several weapons pointed in his direction, but he didn't seem alarmed by the threat to his life, simply confused.
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